


Happy Ending

by WritingsOfAHobbit



Series: Thorin/Reader Stories [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Battle of the Five Armies Spoilers, F/M, HUGE SPOILERS, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingsOfAHobbit/pseuds/WritingsOfAHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary In notes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Because there is always a happy ending, no matter what happens, and you’ve waited a century for yours.

The Halls of Waiting were in chaos. Dwarf after dwarf came to the hall, the heat of battle still flowing through their veins. Naked, angry and afraid they were led from the Anukh Sarjur, still covered in the blood of the fight.

Red, brown and black, all mottled on their skin. The smell of death reaches you even here. You grit your teeth, pushed through the memories and welcomed your kin with kind words.

The dwarves had names, but none that mattered to you. You knew none of them by face or name, but your heart broke for all of them.

When war had broken out many dwarves had rushed to the Kaylur Zarmur to watch over their friends and family. Slowly they started to filter back to the Anukh Sarjur, crying tears of grief and joy as they welcomed their loved ones.

You had no blood kin left in the world of the living, so allowed yourself to be sucked into the commotion.

Everything reminded you of your own arrival in the Halls of Waiting, just after the battle of Azanulbizar. You arrived as naked and afraid as these dwarves, still in pain from your wounds. But you had been the last of your blood kin to die, and there had been many to greet you. For these dwarves from the Iron Hills, they had little family waiting for them. They had ancestors hundreds of years old, but no one that they could truly call kin.

Suddenly there’s a peace and there are no more dwarves. There’s nothing. Those who stood with you to help the arrivals paused, glancing at each other uneasily. “Is it done?” Someone voiced. “Has the battle been won?”

The doors to the rest of the Halls swing open and a dwarf with blonde hair and brown eyes stumbles in, tears streaming down his face. “My sons.” He breathes hoarsely, the words choked by sobs. “My sons.”

You feel sick as you watch Vili, son of Gili and father to Fili and Kili, stumbles through a crowd that parts like water.

“My sons.”

The doors to the Anukh Sarjur swung open with a deathly finality, and the two princes of Erebor stumbled in. They supported each other covered in blood with deep marks above their hearts.

Vili gave a roar of emotion, anger and grief and joy all mixed into one, as he embraced his sons for the first time in half a century.

The dwarves around them turned their back, trying not to watch the scene unfolding in front of them. So rarely did such young dwarrows arrive in the Halls of Waiting, and even rarely did the warrior Vili shed tears.

You and your brother shrug off your coats and drape them around the shoulders of the young princes. You smile tearfully at Vili, though feel you have no right to shed the same tears that he does. You know these boys, but not the way that Vili does. You watched them grow from afar and they could never tell you your name.

The crowd shifts to the side to allow Vili to lead his sons from the room, the three of them holding on tightly to one another.

Only a few more dwarves come through after that, and the last speaks loudly of the eagles that have destroyed the legions of orcs. His family usher him away, but not before he can shout that the battle has been won.

You breathe a sigh of relief. The battle is over and no more lives will be lost. You turn to follow your brother from the room, joining the ranks of long deceased dwarves returning to their lives in the Halls of Waiting.

You’re almost at the door when the crowd parts once more, admitting five new people into the hall. The crowd doesn’t stop moving, though the air gets heavier and sadder with each step.

Prince Frerin enters your line of sight, his eyes bloodshot but a small smile playing on his face. “He did it.” He speaks so quietly you almost cannot hear him over the shuffling of feet. “Azog is dead.” He glanced towards the Anukh Sarjur, revealing the true price that had been paid.

Frerin’s mother and father, Prince Thrain and Princess Fris, stand behind him. They do are crying for all that has been lost today.

“He wouldn’t want…” you gesture to yourself and the door helplessly, your throat constricting around your words..

“Go.” Queen Yedin said gently. “We will find you when the time is right.”

You smile in thanks and in sorrow, stepping round her husband King Thror and leaving the room.

Your return to your chambers where you wait for two days. It is Frerin who fetches you, far happier than he had been 48hours ago.

“My ‘amad will not leave him.” He states as he pushes open heavy stone doors engraved with the mark of Durin. “Neither will the sons of my sister.”

“I do not blame them.” You take and breath as the final door is pushed open.

There stands Thorin.

He looks younger than he did in the Kaylur Zarmur, but older than he did last you saw him in life. Faint lines litter his face and his neck, reminders of his toils.

“Thorin!” you breathe his name in joy and take a step forwards. Then you remember yourself and stop, dropping into a curtsey instead. For this isn’t the prince, second in line to the throne, the dwarf you that you once knew. This is a king. He may have never ruled over you, but he was the king of your kin.

You feel dizzy when he speaks your name as softly as he did before the battle of Azanulbizar. “Would you treat me as differently as one you did?”

“You are a different dwarf.” You reply, your head bowed as you have not been given permission to approach. “Time has changed you and made you a dwarf of even better qualities. The Thorin I once knew could never hold a candle to the dwarf you are today.”

Thorin chuckles, a deep, rich sound that shakes your very core. “It seems time has changed you also. I had thought I would receive a different reception from you.” There is no disappointment in his voice, only amusement, as though he knows your heart better than you do.

“Perhaps it would have been so had you not become King Under the Mountain, and therefore one more step from me.”

You look up finally as your hear his heavy footfalls approaching you. “I am never far from you, Givashel. I am always here. No title, no amount of gold, no mountain could keep me away. Not now that you stand in front of me as beautiful as the day I last saw you.” He reaches out and tilts your face up.

Your gaze meets his eyes, the blue depths more alive now than they had ever been in life. “I have missed you.” You say quietly, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

“And I you.” His hand moves from your chin to your cheek, and you turn your face to kiss his palm.

He smells the same as you remember, his hands just as rough and calloused. He is here and he is yours.

You throw your arms around his neck, gripping the back of his coat so tight that the fabric strains under your fingertips.

His own arms wrap tightly around your waist, crushing you against your chest as his face buries in your hair.

From somewhere in the room someone makes a comment that makes the others laugh, but you don’t know the words or the person that spoke. All that matters is Thorin is here, he is safe, and you’re never going to let him go again.


End file.
